


Crash Into My Heart

by moon_opals



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blushing, Cutesy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Feels, Happily Ever Afters, He'll Crash His Plane Into Her Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 13:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20676440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_opals/pseuds/moon_opals
Summary: A collection of oneshots commemorating Delpad week.Day 1: Della never liked crashing, never saw the good in it. Good thing Launchpad has a way with words.





	1. Chapter 1

Last time Della crashed, she lost a leg. It wasn’t her best moment. For an hour and a half she struggled, and when she at last accepted what was necessary, she gritted her teeth and readied for pain. But there was no readying for the pain she inflicted upon herself.

She screamed and cried and cursed her stupidity to the end of time. It’d taken three hours saw through rubbery skin and bone - the fortunes of being a duck, and it’d taken her another seven hours to manufacture a suitable prothstetic to get her around.

If she were honest with herself and being stranded in the lost recesses of space left her with limited options, she rarely crashed. Crashing wasn’t something Della Duck was capable of, aside from this particular instance, and days spent searching for a way to return home occupied her thoughts. But always, sometimes, there was this nagging snag in the back of her mind.

“How could I mess up this badly,” she wondered. She was Della Duck - trained by the best pilot in this world and the Netherworld. Her crashing a plane, let alone a rocket ship, was impossible.

And yet, it happened.

* * *

“But we’re not,” she heaved, then sighed in silent amazement. “Weird.”

Weird was an understatement. Weird didn’t properly convey her confusion and disbelief, but for someone whose vocabulary wasn’t the best, weird was perfectly suitable.

They crashed. A horrible, metal crushing and bending crash, but no one was hurt. No one was injured. Not a single bump or scratch or crinkled feather. Unharmed. The plane was damaged, an unavoidable fact, but every passenger was safe and sound.

“So…,” she held a cup of thick buttermilk, watching Webby return to the boys inside the fort. “I owe you an apology.”

He drank his buttermilk greedily. She tried not curl her disgust, tuck it away, but she winced, pulling back.

“What,” he smacked loudly.

“I said I owe you an apology.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

It was weird and unusual. “I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly,” Della looked at her feet, eyelids lowered. “Scrooge wouldn’t have hired just anyone, no matter how cheap.”

“It’s how he stays so rich.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “It’s how he stays rich, but most importantly, it’s how he gets eccentric people to meet his eccentric expectations.”

“He is pretty eccentric,” he continued to drink his buttermilk, pausing only to pick out a stray spider or cobweb. “He swam through the sewers for a dime Donald accidentally dropped down there. He said it was real special to him.”

Della grunted. “Of course he did,” she grumbled.

“Said something about the Klondike.”

“It’s always about the Klondike.”

But they were getting sidetracked. Della inhaled and forced the words out. “Thank you,” she placed a hand on hers, “if not for your unorthodox methods I don’t know what would’ve happened to us.”

“We’d probably die of asphyxiation or under the weight of falling boulders,” he said brightly.

“Right.”

A thump. Della frowned.

“Look Ms. Dee.” His emptied mug was put aside. He passed a quick glance to her hand on top of his smile and smiled a boyish grin. “I know I don’t have the smarts about flying. It’s what my pops always worried about, and I understand. You love flying just like I do, and you love your kids.”

Della’s sight twisted and bunched. She looked at him, looked at him very hard. Her stomach rumbled, and she knew it wasn’t due to the overly dense and bland buttermilk. Then she felt his hand - his large, muscled, veiny hand - under hers.

“Sorry about that,” she gasped.

“No problem, Miss Dee.”

She curled her knees to her chest, folding an arm in front. “I always thought there was one way to fly,” she chuckled weakly. “But my teacher always taught me that everyone learns their own way, at their own pace. You’re a great pilot, Launchpad, and I’m sorry for ever doubting you.”

A faint blush rose over his cheeks, passing to his beak, and he scratched the back of his neck, running his fingers through sweaty feathers.

“No big deal, Miss Dee,” he laughed. “No deal at all.”

One thump became two. 


	2. Family Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And baby makes seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this one was a little tough, but I'm pleased with it. I've always wanted to write something like this. Also, happy birthday to my good friend, Donaldtheduckdad! I'm so fortunate to have you, and I really hope your birthday is a great one!
> 
> This was inspired by a tumblr post I read about Penny and Gosalyn. I love it.

At twenty-three Della laid for the first time.

She remembered the day with all its inconsistencies and imperfections. It was in the late afternoon, and she was busy helping Scrooge with inventory. He’d relented that although she wasn’t permitted on adventures - doctor’s orders, she could assist him on counting the various treasures and relics he acquired the year.

A sharp pain put an end to that. A sharp, acute pain she understood immediately, and they ran to the Cloudchaser, palm on her swollen belly. Many aviation laws were broken that afternoon.

Donald arrived a short while later with Gladstone and Fethry in tow.

Her first egg - yes, a singular egg, was unusually large and perfectly smooth, freckled as eggs often were. Her doctor was impressed, a little confused, but impressed. They’d anticipated her egg was going to be large and discussed a cesarean; in the end, she managed to push the egg out in less than an hour. Fortunate.

Hatching was different.

* * *

“Thelma,” Della called in the pilot’s seat. She looked over her shoulder, “Is everyone strapped in?”

Thick, curly auburn hair bounced as the girl counted the heads aloud, but before she could finish Dewey shouted, “Yes, Mom, everyone's strapped in.”

“What,” she pouted, disappointed that she wasn't allowed to verify for herself. “I was just checking.”

“Great counting, Phooey,” Launchpad cheered, waving at the six, strapped children. His gaze softened, “And what about you, Penny Jr.?”

She babbled incoherently

“Yes, my Penny Winny.”

Della chuckled. “Launchpad, pay attention,” she said softly. “We’re meeting the fam on the field.”

“Right-o, honey duck.”

They stifled their laughter at the sound of disgusted groans and eye rolls, but nothing could spoil this day for Della or them. The plane ascended, slicing through clouds, and sunlight bore onto his features, accenting his chin and hair. Della giggled and cast a quick glance back; Penny Jr. was strapped in one of the booster seats, perfectly secured. Her hair was a sprightly orange, inherited from her paternal grandmother. Della didn’t have to imagine what she’d look like with her own mother’s dark, tightly coiled curls. Thelma had it covered.

“Make sure she doesn’t spit up,” Della said. “She just woke up from her nap, and you know how she can get it.”

“We’ll leave it to Louie,” Huey replied. “He calms her best.”

“By pulling my hair.”

“It still makes her happy,” Dewey grinned.

“Didn’t anyone hear? My hair.” He huffed and crossed his arms, “I miss it when Phooey’s hair in style.”

“I dunno,” she smirked. “Thinning hair is in.”

“What did you say?”

Their ensuing argument brightened Della’s grin, and she cast an easy smile at Launchpad, who’s gaze hadn’t left hers.

“Launchpad?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“What did we say about loving gazes while flying?”

“Don’t?”

“Good boy.”

* * *

They landed without crashing on a moist patch of grass. Launchpad unstrapped Penny as the kids walked ahead. Della waited near and extended a hand for Launchpad; he grabbed it eagerly, holding Penny in the curve of his arm.

“Y’think the Mongeese are gonna win this one,” she kissed his knuckles. “Heard its star player was a hell of a beast in battle.”

“Aw, Gos plays fair,” he said, then paused. “Well, she plays rough too. She’ll demolish them.”  
There was something soft about the way he talked about his oldest daughter. Something sweet and gentle and impressionable. Della didn’t want to fall in its warmth but sit still and observe at a distance, so precious it was.

“Heard their coach is worse,” Della smirked.

Penny cooed, tugging on Launchpad’s jacket, and they walked together, as a family to the soccer field where the players prepared for the game’s first half. Della noticed bleachers full of parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. Sunglasses shielded their eyes, and each parent appeared to hold half-filled bottle of Gatorade, much like their kids.

Della didn’t focus on them. Her eyes were set on two particular parents - one dressed in a pale violet blouse and the other, tall and muscled, dressed in a traditional soccer coach wear. She stood tall, arms crossed, and firm, and she sighed, rolling her eyes at the shorter man whose face was scrunched in frustration.

Smiles radiated elation, and Launchpad geared Penny’s attention ahead. “Hey, Penny Winny,” he said aloud, “do you see what I see.”

Lapis lazuli eyes widened on lilac, white freckled feathers, and she clapped excitedly. “Mama. Mama.” Though her voice was small, tiny even, Drake and Penny tilted their heads towards them, and their animosity was forgotten for the time being.

“You didn’t crash,” she studied over their shoulders. “Good job,” she nodded approvingly before grabbing Penny’s chubby hand. “My Empennage,” she smiled. “I take you had fun on your first flight?”

“That she did,” Della grinned, grabbing her moonmate by the hand, resting her head on her side. She couldn’t her sheepish grin when Penny’s arm wiggled around her back. “She was a real trooper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drake grumbled. “We haven’t finished our discussion. I don’t want my Gosalyn getting hurt out there.” He marched to Launchpad’s side, gold band matching his, and he opened his arms, “Now, give me my baby. My little Penny.”

“Your little Penny,” Penumbra smirked. “I see. Empennage has a game to coach.” With a kiss to Della’s cheek and one to Penny’s forehead, Penumbra returned to the field where she huddled around a group of twelve year old girls. Her voice rumbled above the clamor, and her impassioned speech put her ‘soldiers’ at ease.

The kids, minus Penny, sat a bleacher beneath them, and they cheered and roared as loud as the rest of them. Drake bounced Penny on his lap, wiping away drool and spit up. She smirked; no matter his annoyances with Penny, he could never take it out on his -  
“You’ve got her teething ring,” he asked.

“Huh?”

Drake scoffed. “Teething ring,” he gestured. “I put it in the diaper bag before we left this morning.

Della and Launchpad exchanged a confused glance and chuckled uneasily. “We thought you brought it with you,” they said.

He slapped his forehead. “A baby needs a baby bag, and my Dreamboat is going to get fussy without her teething ring because she’s teething,” he hissed.

“Here you go, Drake.”

They looked down.

Louie held the diaper bag with a faint blush on his cheeks. “What,” he defended crossly. “It isn’t like I saw you forgot it or I packed extra diapers and diaper cream and liquid gold bottle formula and whatever, just take it so I can stop talking.”

“At least someone knows what to do with a baby around,” Drake drawled, though not without a pleased smile. “Thank you, Louie.”

“Yeah, don’t make it a big deal,” he griped, returning to his seat. But Huey was the first to nod his happiness, and Thelma patted his head proudly. He looked away, cheeks flushed, but Della saw. She saw the gentle smile perched on his beak, so much like her own.

Della sighed dreamily at Penumbra, tall and firm, ever watchful as she encouraged the girls when they blundered and roared with approval when they scored. Her head rested on Launchpad’s upper arm, just as he grasped Drake’s free hand.

“It’s funny,” she murmured under the crowd’s volume. “It’s funny how things turned out.”

“Is it?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, it’s funny how you haven’t seen a single peanut guy,” he grinned. “Where’d ya’ think I can find some?”

“I don’t know.”

“Check the concession stand,” Drake answered, then pointed. “It’s on the far right.”

“Awesome,” he fist pumped. “Hey, Dewey, want some peanuts?”

“You had me at chili-dogs.”  
  
“I’ll go with them,” Webby offered. “No one needs to a repeat of the Magical World of Wisney.”

Della watched them set off on an adventure to secure snacks for the game, and Drake sat beside her, cuddling Little Penny.

“He’s an idiot.”

“Completely.”

They paused and glanced at each other, then their flat lines grew curvy.

“But he’s our idiot,” they sighed. 

It was true and all that mattered.


End file.
